


Open Door

by Fyre



Series: Ne'er So Fair [4]
Category: Bad Education (UK TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 12:39:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stephen doesn't bring boyfriends home often. Ever, really. But his mum and dad wanted to meet Frank...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open Door

Stephen was worried sick.

It was stupid, he knew that. 

His mum and dad were always brilliant. 

But he didn’t bring boys home with him, and it was the first time Frankie was coming around when they were in. They didn’t need to know about the last time. They really didn’t need to know about the mess on the bed sheets.

“Stop fidgeting, Stephen,” his mum sighed. “Anyone would think you had something to worry about.”

He scrambled up from the couch and went to the window again. “I know,” he said, “but it’s just…” He hesitated, looking back at his mother. 

She gave him that look that said ‘I know exactly what you’re thinking, and you don’t need to worry about it’. She held out her hands, beckoning him, and he returned to the couch, sitting down, taking her hands in his.

“He’s important to you, Stephen,” she said, lifting one hand to stroke his cheek. “You know I only want to meet him because he makes you happy.”

Stephen felt like he was grinning like an idiot. “He’s nice to me, mum,” he confessed, blushing like Chantelle when she thought Alfie was giving her the eye. “He takes me to the football and everything.”

“Then that’s good enough for me.”

Stephen tried to smile, but it didn’t work. “But what about dad?” he said, nodding towards the back garden where his father was arranging tools to be put in the shed. His dad hadn’t touched the bloody shed in years, but now, when Stephen’s boyfriend was coming around, he had every sharp thing out on display.

His mum patted him on the knee. “Don’t you worry about your father,” she said, with the look in her eye that was as sharp as any of dad’s pitchforks. “If he misbehaves, he’ll be sleeping in the shed tonight.”

Stephen grinned. She wasn’t joking, either. 

The doorbell buzzed and Stephen shot to his feet as if he’d been electrocuted. “Oh god!”

“Well, go and let him in,” his mum said, smiling. “I’ll go and call in your dad and make sure he comes unarmed.”

“Thanks,” Stephen said fervently, running for the front door.

Frankie was standing there, looking as nervous as Stephen felt. He was in his West Ham top and jeans, with a hoodie on top, but he‘d left the chain from his belt at home. “All right?”

“Ish,” Stephen admitted in a whisper. “You?”

Frankie shifted from one foot to the other. “Been worse,” he said. He held up a bunch of flowers. “For your mum. S’all right, yeah?”

Stephen leaned out and caught him by the arm. “You are the best boyfriend a man could have,” he said and kissed him quickly. “And if my dad threatens to cut your balls off, he’s only joking.”

“Yeah, right,” Frankie said, looking Stephen up and down. “That why you look like you’re gonna piss yourself?”

“Oh, shut up,” Stephen snorted. “Come on. They’re waiting in the sitting room.”

He was surprised when he felt Frankie’s hand wrap around his as they went down the hall. It felt okay, and he slipped his fingers between Frankie’s, squeezing, before he pushed open the door of the living room.

Mum had managed to get dad in from the garden unarmed, which was good, but he was still standing beside the fireplace, his arms folded, and glaring. No one ever believed he was just a bank teller, not when he looked at them like that.

Mum got up from her chair, smiling. “You must be Frank,” she said, stepping right in front of dad. It was like she could cut off the power of the glare with sheer mum-ness. Dad grumbled behind her, but she ignored him. “Stephen’s told us all about you.”

Frank shuffled his feet. “Not too much, eh?” He ducked his head and held out the bunch of flowers. “Got these for you.”

Stephen caught the approving twitch of his mum’s mouth. “Oh, they’re lovely,” she said, taking them carefully, tangled up in a bag from the Esso down the road. “Isn’t that kind of Frank, Richard?”

“You should put them in water.”

Stephen groaned inwardly at the tone in his father’s voice.

His mum turned around and touched his dad’s arm. “I’ll put the kettle on,” she said. At least, those were the words. What she meant was ‘you had better behave, Richard Andrew Stephen Carmichael’.

As soon as she was gone, dad puffed up as big as he could.

He could look scary when he wanted to, and right now, he wanted to, but Stephen knew Frank wasn’t scared by anyone or anything. Or at least, normally, he wasn’t. Now, in a situation he’d never been in before…

“Dad,” Stephen said carefully. “This is Frank. Frankie, this is my dad.”

Frankie’s hand tightened on his, just for a second, then he let go and held out his hand to Stephen’s dad. “S’nice to meet you, Mr Carmichael.”

Stephen held his breath until his dad finally unfolded one arm and wrapped his hand around Frank’s. He could see the skin of Frank’s hand whiten at his dad’s grip, and buried his face in his hand. Dad picked the worst times to go all macho and embarrassing.

Frankie didn’t say a word, just straightened up and looked Stephen’s dad full in the eye.

If there was one thing Frank Grayson knew how to do, it was be macho.

“I ain’t gonna hurt him,” Frankie said finally, when Stephen was pretty sure the air between them was about the start smoking with aggressive testosterone. 

“You’d better not,” his dad said in the same cool tone. “Or you’ll be taking your bollocks home in a paper bag.”

Frankie nodded, then his dad nodded, and they broke the handshake at the same time.

Stephen made a face at his dad, who ignored him to go to the kitchen and help his mum.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he murmured, catching Frankie’s hand and squeezing it more gently.

Frankie snorted. It wasn’t his usual snort. He sounded amused. “He’s your dad, you silly tosser,” he said. “Course he’s gonna warn me off.” He looked up from their joined hands, and flexed his bruised fingers. “He’s got a fucking strong grip, though, innie?”

Stephen wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know why,” he said. “All he does is play with paper all day.”

Frankie glanced around him, then leaned closer and kissed him quickly. “Just in case I balls up,” he said. “Won’t be able to do that if he knocks my fucking teeth out.”

“He wouldn’t…” Stephen paused, giving Frankie a stern look. “Are you messing with me?”

Frankie grinned at him, eyes glinting. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re an arsehole,” Stephen replied firmly. “Now sit down, and wait for my mum to force feed you tea and biscuits.” He pushed Frankie onto the sofa and sat down beside him. “And if you think my dad’s scary, you wait until mum gets started.”

Frankie knocked his knee against Stephen’s. “S’a piece of piss,” he said confidently.

Stephen caught his hand and squeezed it again. “If she brings out the baby photos,” he said, “you’re allowed to run.”

“An’ let your dad think he scared me off?” Frankie scoffed. “Sod that.”

Stephen couldn’t help laughing. “Do you macho men always have to do that?”

“Dunno,” Frankie said, tangling his fingers in Stephen’s. “S’all I ever do.” He met Stephen’s eyes. “Even when I’m scared shitless.”

It was true as well. 

It was kind of comforting to know that Frankie, under everything, was as scared at he was.

He leaned closer and kissed Frankie again, slowly, gently, and drew back with a smile. “We’ll be all right, babes.”

“Fucking right we will,” Frankie replied in a whisper, squeezing his hand.


End file.
